


Panic

by JamiAlexandra7



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, Femlock, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Panic Attacks, Shippy Gen, Slash Goggles, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamiAlexandra7/pseuds/JamiAlexandra7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically what it says on the tin: Jo, who's afraid of thunder storms (not to mention the potential PTSD trigger) has a panic attack one night during a summer storm. Sherlock is surprisingly helpful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panic

The first thunderclap nearly made Jo jump out of her skin. She glanced at Sherlock, hoping she hadn't seen. Not that she was worried the detective would mock her, really, but... it was a stupid, childish fear, and she wasn't keen to have it deduced to death by her infuriating genius of a flatmate. 

"Maybe a good storm will give us a break from this heat," Jo commented, and then flinched when lightning flashed through the living room of 221b. It had been nearly a week and a half of sticky, smoggy, oppressive heat and humidity, and both Sherlock and Jo - Sherlock especially, overgrown child that she was - were listless and a bit snappish. Sherlock could go a few days on hardly any sleep, but heat made her stroppy. Jo, on the other hand, didn't mind the heat so much, but found it difficult to sleep when it was so humid, which left her overtired and grumpy. 

"Dull." 

Another crash of thunder and Jo rose, tugging the afghan she'd been curled up under closer around her before heading to the stairs. "Yeah, well, to you maybe. I'm for bed. Try and get some sleep at some point, yeah? Don't be up all night." Hopefully, thought Jo, she would be able to fall asleep before the worst of the storm hit and sleep through it.  
A couple of hours later, Sherlock looked up from her microscope as another peal of thunder sounded almost directly overhead, immediately followed by a crash from the upstairs bedroom. Jo. 

Jo, who hadn't had a flashback-nightmare in months and who rarely made any sort of noise after she'd gone to bed. Normally Sherlock would just go back to her experiment - Jo was a grown woman, after all, she didn't need Sherlock peeking in on her like a nervous babysitter - but... but. Jo was afraid of thunderstorms. It was obvious from the way she'd reacted to the threat of a storm. Sherlock decided to check on her, just the once ( _Sentiment. Stupid._ ). 

Thunder roared again as Sherlock crossed the kitchen to the stairs, took them two at a time, and poked her head around the slightly-ajar door to the second bedroom.

"Jo?" 

No answer. Lightning flashed and a small, distressed sound came from the other side of the bed. Fallen out of bed, then.  
"Jo? It's Sherlock. Can I come in?"

Again, no answer. The only sound in the room was Jo's breathing, harsh and uneven, too loud in the silence between bursts of thunder. Sherlock crossed the threshold into the room carefully, edging around the foot of the bed and letting the old floorboards creak under her shifting weight. The last thing she needed was to startle Jo and make things worse. 

Jo was sitting on the floor, sheets and comforter trailing from the bed to wrap around her. She was shaking, knees drawn up to her chest and hands over her ears. 

_Panic attack, obviously. Trigger? Unknown. PTSD possible, but unlikely based on recent improvements to mental state (new job, new therapist, interesting cases). Little-to-no risk of violent reaction if help offered._

Sherlock had no experience with panic attacks, and Jo's advice of "just leave me alone. I'll be fine in a bit" from just after she'd moved in didn't seem as appropriate now as it had then. But a PTSD episode would be different from a regular panic attack, and she would need to know which one it was before she could help.  
Moving slowly, Sherlock sat cross-legged by the foot of the bed, in Jo's immediate line of sight but not in her space, present but non-threatening. "Johanna? It's Sherlock. Do you know where you are, Jo?"

Another flash of thunder and lightning. Jo flinched and whined, pressing her hands harder against her ears and trying to curl further in on herself. When it passed Jo relaxed in tiny increments, visibly working to get her breathing under control. "Sh- ... Sher - lock. ... M'fine."

"Breathe, Jo. You're safe. Try to take deep breaths." Sherlock slowed her own breathing, inhaling and exhaling audibly in an effort to get Jo to match it. After a few minutes she did, Sherlock smiled at her. "Good, Jo. Much better."

"S'not... not like you... Being helpful." The worst of the attack had passed by then, leaving Jo shaking and exhausted and out of breath, wiping embarrassedly at the tears on her cheeks.

"Yes, well, you interrupted my experiment. I had to make sure there wasn't a break-in or something equally tedious." From anyone else it would seem dismissive or uncaring, but Sherlock's teasing tone took the sting out of the words, and her smile made them affectionate.

"Arsehole," Jo said, trying (and mostly succeeding) to smile at her. "You were worried about me. " 

"I was not," Sherlock protested, unconsciously grinning back. That grin was Jo's favourite of her smiles: honest and not-quite-shy, it was genuine, unlike the false smiles she used when she was shamming to get her way with witnesses and Detective Inspectors, and it made her look impossibly young.

"Oh, shut up. Come and sit with me a minute, would you? I, um... Just - come here, yeah?"

Sherlock hesitated, unsure of what she was meant to do and not wanting to get it wrong and crowd her, but after a moment Jo stuck out a hand. Still shaking, wants physical comfort and/or reassurance. "Please?"

"Yes, alright then." 

Twenty minutes later, with a sleeping Jo Watson curled up against her shoulder, Sherlock decided that maybe thunderstorms weren't so dull after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't start out as femlock, but honestly, there needs to be more fem!Johnlock in the world.
> 
> Inspired by a [tumblr post](http://therealmartinsgrrrl.tumblr.com/post/115545035546/john-watson-is-so-brave-and-unbreakable-i-love-him) post, if pretty vaguely. I read it and my brain automatically went "Sherlock talking John down from a panic attack and being surprisingly sweet about it". So this kind of just happened.   
> Also, credit where credit is due: Johanna is my favourite of female alternatives to John that I've seen used in fic, and the description of Sherlock's smile at the end is stuck in my brain from various fics I've read. So if any of those things are in your works, thanks for the inspiration!
> 
> Please consider [supporting me on Patreon!](https://www.patreon.com/jamialexandra7) <3


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